One Day, We'll Have It All
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: They were so blind to reality, to the world around them, leading to a miserable marriage and years of no contact. Now Rachel wants to kick-start divorce proceedings, but Santana is having none of it. AU.
1. The Past Comes Knocking

*0*0*

One Day, We'll Have It All

*0*0*

"I can't believe we're doing this," Rachel said, giggling happily, fingers entwined together. She couldn't stop looking at the engagement ring. She really couldn't. It was that something shiny that your eyes just honed in on, and it was all hers. Hers and hers alone. No one else owned it, and no one else had been given one by the woman sitting next to her.

"We're meant to be, it's fate or some shit like that," Santana said, watching Rachel's enthralled look. If she had known a simple engagement ring would get her that excited and also get her to shut up she would have given her one months ago during finals.

"Fate, huh?" Rachel asked, still looking at the ring.

"Who knew it was your crazy ass I was going to end up living with that day?" she asked, ignoring the pointed look she got at the description of her fiancé. "Fate. Fate knew."

"Well, I'm very pleased that fate decided to step in and help us out. We would never be here otherwise."

"Exactly," Santana said pointing upwards in agreement as she nodded her head.

Rachel grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, sliding her body along the bench they were waiting on. She placed her other hand on Santana's cheek and turned her face to look straight into her eyes.

"Promise me forever?"

"Hmm?" Santana hummed, cocking her eyebrow. Those three glasses of champagne were now not looking so good on her soon to be wife.

"Promise me forever," Rachel repeated, her forehead dropping to rest on Santana's. " Promise you'll love me forever, you'll stay with me forever, you'll be mine forever. Promise me."

Santana didn't know where this declaration was coming from but she wasn't going to ask. It might have been the champagne, it could have been the adrenaline, and it may have even been the nerves. Regardless, it was everything and more that she wanted to say, wanted them to be. Her four glasses of champagne might have been making her into a love sick puppy, but as they say, 'in vino veritas'. In wine there is truth, and the truth of the matter was that she was crazy in love with one Rachel Berry and would indeed promise her forever.

"I promise," she replied, leaning in to kiss Rachel's lips softly.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

Smiling brightly, Rachel closed the distance again and kissed Santana with ease. This was the woman she was going to get forever with, how could she not be excited by that fact? It was simply impossible.

"Miss Berry, Miss Lopez? We're ready for you now," a voice called, pulling them from the other.

"Am I going to have to change my name?" Rachel whispered, hand clasped in Santana's. "Maybe we should hyphenate."

"Don't be silly. It'll be Rachel Berry up in lights when your ass is making it on Broadway. We're not ruining it by tacking my crappy name on the end."

"I happen to like your crappy name," Rachel replied, frowning, getting up and following the man leading them through the halls.

"You're delusional, it's how we got here in the first place," Santana shot back.

"We got here because you couldn't resist me," Rachel teased, winking at her wife-to-be.

"Uh huh, sure," she drawled, pulling Rachel's body back to hers as they made their way inside.

It wasn't going to be anything fancy, or anything over the top. While Rachel dreamed of the big wedding one day, she knew, realistically, that day wouldn't be in her third year at NYADA. Maybe after graduation, they could renew their vows and have a big party, but as poor student with a loan to pay off sometime this century, the big wedding would have to wait. For this, Santana was thankful.

Instead of the five hundred or so people Rachel wanted to invite, it was actually just going to be Kurt, their witness, Blaine and Tina, two of Rachel's friends from one of her classes, and Santana's old roommate, Quinn. It was a motley crew at best, but they were the only ones who could make it such short notice, or who were willing to watch what was classified as an impending train wreck.

Screw 'em. Train wreck or not, she was in love with the girl whose hand was in hers and that was all that mattered.

Rachel politely smiled at everyone, and greeted their friends before making her way over to the wedding officiant. The ceremony was going to be simple, but not bare. They were doing away with walking down an aisle officially, as it felt wrong knowing both their parents weren't there to do it. Things were much less formal, the ceremony would only begin once they both stopped greeting their friends and made their way to the front of the room. It was casual and relaxed, sort of like their relationship.

Smiling politely back at her group of friends, and ignoring the slight teasing from Kurt that she could still make a run for it, Santana finally joined Rachel at the front of the room. The brunette beamed at her, entwining their fingers once more, and turned to start proceedings. Quickly halting things, Santana tugged on her arm to get Rachel to face her once more.

"No regrets, right?" she whispered, suddenly aware that everyone could see and hear them.

There was still time for Rachel to say no, and Santana needed to make sure that she had no doubts in her mind. They needed to be sure. She knew, without a moments hesitation, that this was the right thing for them, but she needed Rachel to think so, too.

"None whatsoever," Rachel whispered back, effectively burning all doubts into dust. "How could I ever regret marrying you? You mean everything to me. Now come on, stop delaying, the sooner we're married the sooner we can get back to our apartment and christen everything as wife and wife." Rachel smirked and squeezed Santana's hand once more, then smiled brightly at the officiate. Leaning over, Santana kissed Rachel's temple and hummed against her skin.

With no regrets and a promise of forever, how could it go wrong?

*0*0*

One door. That was all that separated her from her past; one door. Being in the very building was bringing back memories, but she knew, she knew the second she knocked on the door that everything would come tumbling back. This door, this door that she was ravaged against, on both sides. This door, this very door that she quietly shut for the last time when she left for good. This door, this damn door that held a part of her life on the other side, the part she was trying to cut out now.

Gosh, whatever possessed her to do this in person? Why couldn't she have just sent the papers through the mail like a normal ex? Why did she want to do it face to face? Why did she ever want to see _her _face again? Nothing good ever came from looking at her face, and she would know, she was married to it.

Standing up tall, Rachel brushed down her skirt and jacket one last time before raising her hand to knock. Three quick raps on the wood and it would all be over, she could start to close that chapter on her life. But three quick knocks would bring her face to face with the very person she couldn't look in the eye anymore. Just seeing her would hurt, she knew it. It would be like ripping a Band-Aid off, if said Band-Aid had been stapled to your skin.

This was so stupid.

Taking one last breath, she knocked, and then waited for the familiar sounds on the other side. A slow smile graced her lips as she heard the clicking of Murdo's paws on the wooden floor as he came to investigate. Then there was the sound of footsteps making their way over, the jingling of the lock, and then the squeak as the door opened fully. It was all so familiar.

The face looking back at her, though, was not. Not in the least bit familiar.

A woman much taller than herself, despite that not being a particularly hard feat, with long blonde locks covering her shoulders stood before her. The tank top she was wearing was high on her stomach, revealing pale skin beneath, and the scoop in the front revealed no bra. This, matched with the cotton panties the woman was sporting, told Rachel she had clearly interrupted at a bad time.

"Oh," Rachel said, unsure what to do. This was not what she was expecting. Was she even at the right apartment? She couldn't be. No way.

The blonde's blue eyes raked over her once, and then the she raised her eyebrows in question. "Can I help you?" she asked, sounding slightly aggrieved at the interruption. Rachel knew why, instantly, of course, and suddenly couldn't fight the blush making her way over her cheeks.

This had to be the wrong apartment. Maybe she was in the wrong building as well. Or hell, even the wrong block! That must be it. She must be in the wrong city. No way was this _her wife's _apartment.

As if just to kick her while she was down, those lazy hazel eyes of Murdo came into sight, his big bulky body trying to break past the blonde and give Rachel a proper greeting. Oh how she'd missed him! He looked good, if not a little more grey compared to the last time she'd seen him, but still.

Quick to cut off his escape, the blonde blocked Murdo and Rachel's reunion, earning a whine from the dog and a pout from the brunette. The pout quickly dissolved into an angry frown however. Who was this woman and what right did she have to keep Rachel Berry from her very own dog?

"Yes, you can help me. You can let me greet my dog, thank you very much."

"Your dog? What?" Frowning, the blonde patted Murdo on the head, getting him to sit at her feet and then shook her head. "You're confused, Lady. This is my friend's dog. And you're kinda creeping me out, so could you maybe leave?"

"Absolutely not. This is my dog. I bought him when he was just a pup!" It hurt to see Murdo respond to some stranger like that. It had taken months to get Murdo to ever do that for her. He seemed to prefer ignoring Rachel completely and trampling her down than sitting nicely.

"He's my dog, and you may have bought him but you did fuck all with him. That's your M.O. though, isn't it?" a new voice drawled, the slender and toned body coming into sight in the doorway. Dressed similarly to the blonde, in red cotton panties and a grey tank top, Santana Lopez stood with arms crossed over her chest and a pissed off expression on her face. It was enough to make Rachel sink backwards into the hallway further, putting more distance between herself and the trio opposite.

"Santana," Rachel sighed, nostalgia washing over her. The time apart had been good to Santana, she noted, seeing the similarities to the woman she remembered, but also some key differences.

She hadn't seen her in person for so long, and looking at her now was bittersweet.

"Britt-Britt, go back to bed, I'll be with you in a minute," Santana said, breaking eye-contact with Rachel. Her fingers grazed down the blonde's arm sensually as she spoke, causing Rachel to look everywhere but at them. Separated they may be, but she could still recall a time when Santana looked at her that way, and it stung.

"Okay. Come on, Murder!" the blonde called, grabbing a ball off the side table and enticing him to follow her into the bedroom. His big lumbering body chased after her, almost knocking over the plant pot as he went.

Rachel watched them go, and then frowned. That wasn't right. He was Murdo. She had named him. Santana had hated it, of course, but she hated everything back then, including Rachel. Hell, she had even joked about calling him Murder, but to hear that she'd actually done it. That just wasn't on.

"Murder?! You named him Murder?! We agreed on Murdo, not Murder!"

"Did you really come here to yell at me for naming _my _dog?" Santana asked, unimpressed. Her scowl grew deeper, and the hallway seemed to get a little chillier.

"No, I came here to talk to you, actually."

Rachel knew she had to quickly get to the point otherwise the door would be slammed in her face and her chance would be lost. She had a plan, she needed to stick to it. Having established that Santana was actually home and hadn't already called the police on her ass or told her to fuck off, she could only guarantee another few minutes before either happened.

"God, that's fucking rich. You always want to fucking talk, never fucking listen." She was still angry, and still cursing, clearly in no mood to talk at all.

"Santana, I do-" Rachel tried to say, disagreeing with her comment.

"You don't!" As if realising that she had just yelled, Santana took a deep shaky breath and shook her head. "Don't come back here. That's what we agreed. You don't come here. You don't bother me. You don't even fucking look at me. It's not hard to understand, so what the fuck are you doing?"

"I want to put an end to this. We never…we never dealt with this properly, and I wanted to let you know that I want a divorce. But first, we need to agree a Separation Agreement, and have that in place. I thought it best to come to you in person about this, to give you this in person, as I didn't want to surprise you with it when you received it through the mail. You can make amends to it and we can work on the most suitable separation agreement for the both of us, but I just need you to sign and I'll never be in your life again. That would be it, and in a year's time, I'll file for a no-fault divorce and we can pretend like this never even happened," Rachel finished, reaching into her bag and taking out the first draft of the agreement, holding it out, trying to get Santana to take them. If she could just get them in her hands then things would be on the right track. It would be a start.

Reluctantly, Santana took the carefully prepared manila folder and flicked it open to look at the pages within.

"I understand that you'll need time to read through everything, and I'll do my best to be patient, but if you can get them to sorted out sooner than later, there will be a generous lump sum for you." At this, Santana cocked her eyebrow and sought out that exact page. "I know money cannot make up for my shortcomings in our marriage, but perhaps it can help. It just seemed like the right thing to do, to pay you back for all the times you-"

"Why?" Santana asked abruptly, cutting Rachel off. She definitely didn't need to hear about what she'd put up with. She'd lived it, she didn't need to relive it in the hallway of her apartment for all her neighbours to hear.

"Pardon?"

"Why are you wanting a divorce, why file for a separation agreement now?" There was suspicion in Santana's voice as she spoke, and instantly Rachel was back on defence.

"Santana, we've been apart for six years-" Surely that was reason alone for them to get this ball rolling. It was long overdue. It was seriously long overdue.

"Yeah, exactly. You had years to come to me about a separation agreement. Why are you wanting one right now?"

"I don't understand what you're-"

"You _need _me to sign these, why? What are you not telling me?" It felt irrational in Santana's mind that they would stay married forever, or at least married on paper, but still. There was something wrong about all of this.

Rachel knew she couldn't hide it much longer. It would only take a few well-placed guesses and then Santana would know. If the words didn't leave her mouth, though, everything would blow up in a ball of flames. Santana had to hear it from her.

"I'm getting engaged," she answered, watching the stoic expression remain unchanged. "I'm coming to you, _begging _you to start this process. I really don't want to kick up a fuss and open the lid on our lives. The press have been wholly uninterested, but I fear if they catch the scent of me being married already they'll be like sharks in a bloodbath. Please, let's just get this over with."

Santana thought it over, glancing down to the papers in her hand. There, on her ring finger still sat her wedding ring. A quick look at Rachel's hands, carefully grasped nervously on her stomach, she saw she was without her rings. Of course she was, she hated them anyway.

"No," she replied, shaking her head.

"No?" What did she mean no?

"No. I'm not doing this."

"Santana, we've been separated for six years! Okay, maybe it wasn't a legal separation but that still matters! I do not want the courts to divide up our lives and our assets, which is what will happen if we go any other route. Do you not understand that? I want to come to a fair agreement with you about that, not have it decided for us!"

"I don't care, I'm not going along with this." There it was, that stubborn tone, the one Rachel lost so many fights to. That's how they ended up living in that very apartment. That's how they ended up with a dog instead of a cat. That's how they ended up where they were today.

"Why are you doing this?" Rachel asked incredulously, almost whining. She didn't want to have to file a no-fault divorce. It might have been the better option, but it didn't allow her proper control of her future, her life, than a separation agreement would. They would get to decide, officially, and it wouldn't have meddling hands in the mix.

"I refuse to be swept under the rug like some piece of dirt. I'm not going to roll over and make this easy, because you certainly didn't make anything easy for me. So if you really want a divorce, you'll need to do better than this." Pushing the folder back at her, Rachel could do nothing but take it.

"If I file for divorce and you contest it, it'll be public knowledge! That'll be blood in the water for the press-" she began, only to be cut off.

"Yeah, but it'll be my blood, won't it?" Her voice was so full of misery, Rachel felt like her throat was closing up.

"Santana, I-"

"I'm not interested, you know my answer." Slamming the door, Rachel was left speechless in the hallway.

God, the gall of her! Santana was only doing this because she knew Rachel would never want the world to know about them. She knew that Rachel would want to brush this under the rug as soon as possible. She knew that prying eyes and ears into their past wouldn't do her any favours and therefore she would hold stop with the proceedings.

Outraged, Rachel knocked on the door several more times, trying to almost slam her fist through it. This was ridiculous. Santana was just being her usual pain in the ass self, out to hurt her in return for all the times Rachel screwed up. Though she wanted to do it on a public scale, and that was unacceptable.

The door flew open after a minute of incessant banging, and a murderous looking Santana stood on the other side.

"I already told you to stay the fuck aw-"

"What do you want?" Rachel cried, cutting her off. This was so much harder than it had to be and now she was irritated and losing patience. She had tried being nice, and that got her nowhere. "Seriously, Santana, what do you want? If today proves anything it's that we can't even hold a conversation without spitting venom at one another. Why do you even want to stay married to me?!"

"It's not about staying married to you, because God only knows why I'd want that, but more to show you not everyone bows down the wonderful Rachel Berry," Santana replied, sharp and full of sting.

"Why are you doing this?" The hurt in Rachel's voice had Santana swallowing tensely. They had hurt each other enough, there wasn't meant to be any more pain, but she just couldn't, wouldn't, give up without a fight. It was in her nature, that's what she did, so why was Rachel surprised?

"Where's your ring?" she asked, changing focus. Plus, she was wondering if Rachel had maybe thrown it away like she'd threatened that one time. She usually made good on her threats.

"What? What does that have to do with anything? It's at home. Now please, Santana, let's just keep this between us and our lawyers. I don't want to make a big deal of it." And that was the sentence that had her standing up tall again, building up her defences and ignoring the sting of Rachel's words.

"Of course you don't, because it never was a big deal to you. Christ, Rachel, you make it sound like one big misunderstanding, well it wasn't. We got married. We vowed 'till death do us part' so until then, you're stuck with me."

Rachel went to argue back and then shut her mouth, frowning at the ground between them. It was maybe four feet, but it felt like the Atlantic ocean. Trying to cross it would get her drowned but she wanted to. She wanted to know the woman standing before her, the stranger. She was so familiar yet so different.

"You haven't changed one bit," she said, lying through her teeth, and she knew Santana was aware of that fact too. They both knew the other had changed, they both knew how and why and even when. Yet, it was all she could say. The girl she'd married wasn't standing before her, instead it was the bitter and angry woman she'd walked away from, and she was still there, glaring angrily back now.

"Neither have you," Santana said, shaking her head. They were done. No more. "Goodnight."

Realistically, Santana knew that Rachel could still get a divorce easily. Within a few months it could be final, but it wouldn't be private, and it would most likely rely on the courts to divide up the assets, which was exactly what Rachel didn't want. However, it most likely would happen, and it was only a matter of time. Dropping back against the door, Santana knew she was running out of it.

Things were never meant to have gone this way.

Murder trotted out the bedroom and made his way over, sitting down at her feet. She ruffled his ears and sunk to his level, looking his straight in the eyes.

"Do you remember her? She used to live with us. You were only a puppy then, so you might not. She was the one who brought you home, back when she was nice. She used to be really nice…I was kind of in love with her, and so were you." Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself and rose to her feet. "I can't believe I talk to you like you'll respond one day. Seriously must be losing my mind." With one last look at the front door, Santana headed back into the bedroom, Murder close on her heels.

On the other side of the door, Rachel could hear the mumbling of Santana's voice, unable to make out the words, and then the clicking of Murdo's paws across the floor as they moved further into the apartment. It was at this point that she knew it was over. There was no point trying again. She'd said her bit, and now she needed a new strategy.

Plan A had crashed and burned, much like her marriage, and now she needed to move onto Plan B, whatever that was.

Squaring herself up, she walked out the apartment looking a lot less disheartened than she was. The sting of Santana's venom had not subsided yet, but it would, in time; the anger and hatred that she saw in those dark brown eyes would ease up in her mind, eventually; and the longing she felt to reconcile their difference so they could at least be friends would dissipate in the coming days.

If Rachel Berry knew anything, it was that time healed everything.

*0*0*

A.N.

I know there are likely to be a few inaccuracies in regards to the divorce procedures, but I tried my best so forgive me for the mistakes, please.


	2. Broken Records

*0*0*

One Day, We'll Have It All

*0*0*

Santana was on one side of the room, Rachel on the other, Murdo in the bedroom, and the silence engulfed the rest of the apartment. The two of them had argued back and forth until their voices were raw, and then no more. All the pent up anger, all the vicious and venomous words that should never had been said ended up being spoken, and only now the tears had stopped.

The line in the sand had been drawn, there was no going back. It was over.

Seven years of being together, four of those married, and this was what it had come to; Rachel sitting on the floor by the window, Santana on the couch on the far end of the room, and broken promises laying at their feet.

Santana was sure she was numb to the pain. Her body was grieving with the tears running down her cheeks and the body shakes of despair, but emotionally she just felt numb. It was going to hit her hard later, but for now she had a level head, and with that, she did all she could do.

She took what was hers, what she needed to survive this.

"I get the apartment," the words were gravelly on her tongue but clear enough to catch Rachel's attention. It only took a moment before she responded, thinking over the possible outcomes.

"Okay," Rachel murmured, nodding as she looked down at her lap. If this was what Santana wanted to do now, then so be it. She wouldn't protest.

"And the dog." Murdo was still in the bedroom, hopefully sleeping soundly and not destroying everything, and God dammit Santana was not going to lose him too.

"No," was the firm response of Rachel, causing Santana to look at her in surprise. Yeah right.

"Fuck off, no way. You're not getting him. After everything you've done, do you really think you have the right to say you want him?" Conceding, Rachel nodded again and accepted that she really was picking the wrong battles.

There would be others, more important ones, but for now she needed to go through this. If it was what Santana wanted at that time, she'd go along with it, because in a few hours, she'd be walking out that door and never coming back. Best to get it sorted out before it was too late.

And they did, with a verbal agreement in place, Rachel rose to her feet, feeling the pins and needles set in as she tried to move her legs. She didn't dare say goodbye to Murdo, as it would break her heart to see his excited face and then have to walk away from it, so she avoided the bedroom and went straight for the door.

Now the harder part. With her hand on the door handle, she looked back to the woman she genuinely thought she would be spending the rest of her life with and knew this was the end of them. They couldn't go on anymore, and while it was torture to look at Santana's hurt face and teary eyes, it was killing her to open the door and make it final.

With so many scenarios playing in her mind, wondering if there was anything she could do to fix it, to make things right, to help them become them again, Rachel remained paused at the door. And it was this that unnerved Santana enough to react.

"Well, do you want me to actually kick you out or are you happy to do it yourself?" she spat, holding as tightly as possible to her mask, keeping everything at bay.

The words were enough, and Rachel knew that was a sign there was nothing to be done. She needed to go.

Only with the door clicking shut softly behind Rachel did Santana lose it. The numbness was gone, replaced by pure agony, her chest being ripped open by bare hands, her heart beating out of the gap left open, and then no more, just pain; excruciating and agonising pain.

And in the back of her mind, Santana knew this was only going to get worse. A wound like this, it would grow infected over time, leave scars, and never truly heal. There would be no coming back from it, no amount of time would mend her broken heart. All she could do now was just endure.

*0*0*

Broken Records looked like every other bar around that part of town, but this one was where Santana spent most of her time. Unlike her college days, she wasn't drinking, wasn't trying to get in front of a mic and sing, and wasn't trying to dance on the bar. Instead, she was checking it was all in working order for the night head.

It was her baby, her first project. While studying at college had been great, and had made her parents proud, she didn't want to follow that substandard career path. She wanted to make it big, but having lived in the shadow of a truly supreme voice, she knew that wasn't the way.

Instead, she teamed up with another to help make that dream come true. Dani, her business partner, was after the same thing. Originally, she wanted to sing and be known for that, but New York had been tougher to Dani than it ever had to Santana, and rather than working her hands raw for any old bar, she saw the merit in doing it for herself.

Dani brought the smarts, the business know all from having worked hard all over town, and Santana had brought the funds. And three years of hard work had earned Broken Records a sophisticated reputation for what was primarily a student hangout. And as every night was party night to the local students, that meant Santana was frequently inside, ensuring everything was running as it should be.

But on this particular occasion, Santana wished it had been Dani who was front of house, as she wanted nothing to do with the person that had just walked in. Of course, they had ignored the fact that the place was clearly not open at that point in time and wandered on in, and of course they strutted their way down towards Santana like they owned the damn place. As if she should expect anything less.

"I wondered when you'd show up," Santana drawled, wiping down the bar, making no attempt to look Quinn's way. She knew it was her by the walk, the wave of familiar perfume, the all too imposing presence that came with the other woman.

"Is that so?" Quinn replied, making no move to come closer.

"Dame right it is. Rachel's been clinging to you since we split, so of course you'd show up."

"She needed someone." The words were offhanded, a simple shrug of the shoulder to match them, but it was the wrong move on Quinn's part.

"And I didn't?" Santana spat back, glaring at her for even daring to think otherwise.

Quinn at least had the decency to drop her gaze to the floor and accept whatever was to come next. She hadn't been there for Santana when she needed her, and instead ended up picking sides without actually picking sides. She didn't agree with either Rachel or Santana's opinions on why the marriage broke up, but somehow she ended up being the confidant for Rachel, even though she had originally been closer with Santana.

It had played out messily and no one had been left clean. Quinn was just another dirty casualty caught in the mess.

Going back to what she was doing, Santana turned to check the fridges, eying stock and making Quinn wait. There was one question on the tip of her tongue, but perhaps it was best she removed herself from within reaching distance of anything sharp before asking.

Creating space between the bar and herself, Santana pointed at one of the booths at the back and indicated for Quinn to follow. She did just that, and sat opposite, watching carefully. Santana knew that Quinn had come with some kind of speech, so she expected to hear it already, but as that wasn't happening, she was going to have to be the brave one.

"So is it you she's marrying?" she asked, straight to the point, needing to know.

"What?!" Quinn blurted, looking more horrified than caught red handed.

"She's getting engaged, is it to you?" It could have all been an act, so Santana needed to know for sure.

"No, of course it's not. Santana, I would never do that to you. It's not me she's with," Quinn explained, shaking her head and frowning.

"I always assumed you liked her." That wasn't a question, but clearly Quinn felt that she had to give you something as she then opened herself up some more.

"I _did_, past tense, but she married you. I'm not going to be that kind of person, going after one of friend's spouse." That was reasonable enough, and with that answer accepted, it was time to move onto the more important one.

"Who is she trying to marry then?" Santana was doing everything possible to make it seem like she didn't care, but no one was buying it.

"Some photographer." Quinn's vague answer was enough for her to know she wouldn't get a name anytime soon.

"Does this photographer know about me?"

"Yes. Rachel was very upfront about it all. The second their relationship bordered on being serious she confessed to being married."

"And why didn't she push for a divorce then?"

"She thought it would send the wrong message in their relationship."

Santana rolled her eyes, trying hard not to let the words she was thinking spew forth. If she did, it would only lead to Quinn and her arguing, and most likely not talking for months on end. They had been there, they had done that. The rules of the friendship were now simple; as long as neither Santana or Rachel bitched about the other, Quinn could safely stay in their life. It was the only way she could cope with the difficulties of being friends with two people who could hardly be in the same room as the other.

But when Rachel had shown up at Santana's door, it was obvious what the next move would be. Quinn had to have known that Rachel was back from that stint in L.A. and she had to have known what Rachel was planning. Yet she hadn't hinted or said anything, leaving Santana open to being blindsided.

Clenching her jaw, Santana looked away, not wanting to start.

"Thank you," Quinn said softly, as if knowing exactly what Santana had stopped herself from doing.

"Whatever," she barked back, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "So what brought you here? Come to convince me to do this Rachel's way?"

"It's not Rachel's way, Santana, it's the right way." God, what a load of bullshit. Rolling her eyes again, Santana crossed her arms, and waited. Quinn had five minutes to state her case before she was going back to work. The bar wasn't going to ready itself.

"Why won't you sign the papers?" Quinn finally asked, her eyes full of confusion and curiosity.

"She's my wife." That was the cop-out way of answering that question.

"She hasn't been your wife in years, Santana. You're just holding onto a bad thing. Don't you think it's time to move on?"

She did, but it wasn't that easy, and now she had to make Quinn understand that.

"When did you stop loving her?" Santana asked, and her question caused Quinn to pale.

"What?" The silence of the bar rang on after her shaky response, but Santana had known about Quinn's adoration of Rachel for years so wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"You loved her, I know that, but when did you stop? Have you ever stopped?" she asked, and while this bordered on cruelty, it was a must to make her point.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Quinn's defences were going up, which was completely understandable.

"Do you really think I can just sign my life with her away and pretend it didn't happen? That's what she's asking me."

"You've moved on. She said you were with a blonde now-" No. Santana was not going to have that shit shredding around.

"Brittany and I are _just_ friends. She comes over, eats my food, plays with my dog, and we watch movies. Her boyfriend is in Iraq and she gets lonely. So I'm being a good friend. Rachel may have decided our vows and marriage were worth shit, but I didn't." The iciness of her voice was a tone Quinn hadn't heard in years, but the words themselves were more important.

"So wait, what are you telling me here, San? Do you still love her?" Was it really going back to this?

"I married her. Do you think I would have done that if I didn't think things would work out between us?" Quinn looked as though she couldn't process what those words actually meant and shook her head, jumping back to the reason why she was there in the first place.

"You need to settle on the separation agreement."

"I don't want to." Santana shrugged, mind made up.

"What _do_ you want? It can't be her, because you're still spitting venom at her."

"She left me, of course I'm still angry about that." Angry about that and so many other things, all equally painful and back to being as raw as they were when Rachel left thanks to her surprise visit the other night.

"Angry enough to punish and hurt her like this?" Quinn asked, frowning at how Santana could possibly be so wicked.

"She wants to erase me from her existence, as if I was never there – don't you think that is punishing me, hurting me?"

Quinn had no more words, because while she was sure that's not what Rachel was trying to do, she didn't have enough ammunition to safely navigate through this. She didn't know enough of what Rachel was trying to do, not in great detail, so knew it was safer to bow out now.

And the sound of heels walking their way gave her the perfect out.

"San, do you know what I did with the- Oh," Dani's voice stopped short, taking in the sight of the two of them sitting together, Santana's face giving enough away to know that this was no happy chat. "Sorry to interrupt, I didn't-"

"It's fine," Santana murmured, moving to get out of the booth, and having Quinn follow.

"Hi, Dani," she greeted, smiling politely.

"Quinn," Dani replied, nodding back. The two of them weren't exactly friends, but polite pleasantries were never too hard to come up with.

"I best be going," Quinn added in, before the silence dragged on. She moved towards the door, nodding her bye to Dani and was glad to hear Santana walking behind her.

Once closer to the door, Quinn turned and hoped to see the girl she once knew, once lived with, but there was someone else standing in her place; someone who looked like her, but had the harshness of betrayal and pain mixed in.

"I know you're still hurting, but maybe if you work on cutting Rachel out your life, the pain will finally stop," Quinn finished, her hand resting on Santana's arm, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Just give it a thought." And with that she made her leave; Santana watching her as she left.

While the words made a world of sense, they were impractical.

It had been six years since the break, since everything had fallen to pieces, and in that time Santana had certainly tried to cut Rachel out of her life. But how do you do that when she's everywhere? Not just in the world itself, with the press wanting every little bit of her, but when she was engrained in your memories?

Maybe Santana's attempts to hold onto what was left of Rachel were futile and petty, but she didn't know what else to do. She had never been able to take her ring off, even when it meant so little to Rachel. But if they divorced, if they actually went ahead with it all, Santana would have to; and she didn't know if she could stomach that.

It was one thing knowing her wife didn't want to be with her, but it was another thing altogether knowing that Rachel no longer wanted to be her wife at all. That heartbreak would hurt more than she could imagine, and even after all these years of preparing herself, she still wasn't ready for it, and she doubted she ever could be.

*0*0*


	3. Hurt

*0*0*

One Day, We'll Have It All

*0*0*

The car journey from the airport had been spent in silence, with Santana's mother driving with more aggression than what felt safe, and with her father sitting in the front shaking his head every so often. It was not exactly the homecoming welcome she wanted, and it seemed like it was only going to get worse once they arrived back at the house.

Rachel had flown back home, too, to tell her father's over the break. The only reason the two of them didn't go together was simply due to funds. Neither could afford the expense of that kind of trip. But now, that misfortune was a godsend. If Rachel had been exposed to this attitude from her parents, Santana would have been mortified.

She genuinely felt like the kid who had just been scolded for doing wrong, even though she knew better than to feel like that. It was her life, she had to live it the way she wanted to. Only, she never counted on her parents' disappointment being so painful.

Santana had intended to bring it up over dinner, to tell them that Rachel, the girl she had moved in with when Quinn got that internship across the city, was actually more than just her roommate, and was now her wife. It was unexpected, it was amazing, and that she was sorry for being so secretive about it. And then she wanted her mother to congratulate her, her father to smile, and for them to talk in more detail.

Only that was not what happened, and there was no chance of it going that way.

Her parents had come to pick her up at the airport, and after the initial hellos and hugs, they made their way to collect Santana's bags. They were still being unloaded when they arrived, which gave them time to stand around, and in hindsight, Santana should have been more careful. If she wasn't going to tell them just then, her hands at least should be in her pockets for most of the trip home.

"What's that?" Maribel asked, frowning, and directing attention away from the luggage carousel.

"What?" Santana looked onto the floor, wondering if she'd dropped something, and then her hand was being grasped and pulled forward into her mother's.

"Santana," her mother said slowly, her voice full of concern, and then she was looking at her, frown fully in place, and that was not the happy face Santana was hoping to see.

"You didn't," her father muttered, seeing what the big deal was and then groaning as he shook his head, looking in pain.

"What's wrong with you two? Look, I wanted to do this at home because the baggage claim is not the ideal place, but whatever. I got married-"

"We can see that!" her mother's voice was shrill and yeah, fuck.

Before Santana could even begin to explain, her father cut her off, and silenced her mother in the process.

"We'll discuss at home," he said, leaving no room for discussion, and Santana just knew it had all gone to shit.

So after finally collecting her bags and loading up the car, they were on their way. The ride back truly was as horrible as she imagined it being, but that was nothing compared to what it was going to be like when they finally walked through the front door.

"Hey sis, long time so see!" Nick called out as everyone filed inside the house, looking for too happy to be seeing her, which was sweet, but he had no idea what he had just opened the door to.

"Hey," Santana greeted, giving him the best smile she could. He moved closer, subtly casting glances at their parents.

"What did you do?" he whispered, but still loud enough for their mother to hear.

"She showed how irresponsible she truly is, and we need to talk to her, so if you'd please-"

"Say no more," he replied, holding his hands up and backing out of the room.

Nick knew better than to get involved. He might be five years younger than Santana but they had both learnt the key signs of when their parents were pissed, and right now their mother was showing all six of her classic 'I can't believe you' facial expressions, while their father was exhibiting his 'you've really screwed up now' grimace.

Pointing to the living room, Maribel practically marched Santana in there, and then it started. They argued, with curses flying and disappointment palpable in the air. Despite her parents being unable to change the fact that she had gotten married, they still wished to vent their hurt and anger at her choice. And at first, Santana fought back, standing up for herself and her marriage, but as the time wore on, she opted to just keep her mouth shut.

Eventually, they ran out of steam, and she was finally excused.

Nick, who had been eavesdropping the entire time, cornered her in the kitchen, looking at her with complete wonder.

"I can't believe you got married," he uttered in awe, as if this was the weirdest thing in the world.

"I can't believe everyone's pissed at me for it!" Santana moaned, opening the fridge with a groan and grabbing some orange juice.

"What did you expect? Come on, San, you went off to New York for a few years and then suddenly you're married? What the hell is that all about?"

"I love her." That was the simplest response, but one that was always scoffed at, and this situation was no different.

"I love my Xbox but you don't see me wanting to marry that," Nick murmured, earning him a slap on the head.

"Don't be a prick," she grumbled, shaking her head at him. She could take shit from their parents, because they were meant to give her shit, but not her brother.

"I'm not trying to be but come on, you got married! Do you not understand how that's a big deal?"

"Yeah, but we live together, we spend all our time together, we've been dating for years, marriage is the next thing. It's not like anything has changed."

"It has, though. You might not see it yet, but things have changed for you." Nick was clearly under the impression that marriage was this big powerful event, but as Santana had found out, it really wasn't. "What if you wake up tomorrow and meet a girl who puts her to shame?" he then asked, and Santana felt the need to slap him again.

"I won't because there isn't anyone like that. She's it for me, she's the one."

"Well, I hope you're right, because I don't want to see you get hurt," he finished with a shrug, and his sentiments were appreciated. Santana didn't want to get hurt either.

*0*0*

Although Rachel was convinced that she had made the right decision by stopping by Santana's in person to tell her about the separation agreement, her body didn't seem to be agreeing with her. She was shaking, physically shaking, as she sat in the back of a cab, heading home. It was as if her whole being; emotional, physical and mental, was being wracked by a cataclysmic disaster.

Santana was that cataclysmic disaster; her voice, her eyes, her body, her presence. It was the drop of water in a still lake, creating wave after wave, crashing into the sand, upsetting everything in its path; and Rachel didn't quite know how to recover.

She had the duration of the journey to piece herself together, to clear her mind of everything that was Santana, and get her game face on. The first move on the chessboard had been made, and now it was time to look five moves ahead to ensure success. That meant pre-empting all available moves and having plans to tackle them.

This planning, this focus, was enough to distract Rachel briefly, and the shaking stopped. It still felt like she was being battered and bruised, pulled under by the waves, and gasping for breath, however. Santana had that effect on people, though. Only, Rachel didn't think she'd still have that effect on her.

As the cab grew nearer her home, Rachel pulled as much of herself together as possible and got ready for what was sure to be an interesting conversation. After paying the driver and making her way inside, she rode the elevator up to her floor, keys in hand, and waited to make the long walk towards her door.

She shouldn't feel nervous. She hadn't done anything wrong. This wasn't a secret. She didn't secretly go to meet Santana, so there should be no guilt, no anxiety, and no distance needed. Nothing had happened, so why was her body, her mind, acting like she'd just cheated on her fiancée?

It was ridiculous, purely ridiculous, and shaking her head, Rachel put her key in the lock and opened the door, heading inside.

The place was quieter than she expected, but then again Mack might be out. She was working earlier, and maybe her shoot rang long or something. Whatever the case may be, Rachel slipped out her jacket, and kicked off her shoes, dumping her bag on the nearest table as she did so.

Flopping into the couch, she let out a sigh.

She had done everything right. She had explained herself. She had given Santana the facts. She had been polite and courteous. She had not picked a fight. She had done everything right, right?

"Hey, I didn't hear you get in," a familiar voice soothed from behind the couch, and then Mack's hands were sliding down over to rub against Rachel's back. "How did it go?" she asked, frowning in concern.

Rachel rolled over, to look at the woman who now held her in such adoration. How long had it been since Santana had looked at her like that? Knowing that was a dangerous question, and seeing Mack's concern growing, Rachel shook her head and then nodded for her to join her.

"It didn't," she replied, shrugging as Mack moved round the couch, kitted out in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair slightly damp from being in the shower, and curled up next to Rachel.

"Oh," she murmured, expecting something like that but hoping for better.

"She needs time," Rachel supplied, still believe time to be the healer of everything. But Mack wasn't such a believer.

"She's had six years," she pointed out, giving Rachel a sad smile, knowing that she wasn't going to admit defeat, even if it was staring her in the face.

"I mean, she needs time to go over what she wants in the separation agreement. I'll give her a few days and we'll see what happens." Her voice was strong as she spoke, but Mack could read the doubt in her eyes, the fidgeting in her hands, and found herself frowning slightly.

"Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do if she doesn't want to sign a separation agreement? I mean, I can wait a year if one of those is signed, I can do that no problem. But I don't want our relationship being held hostage because your _wife _won't let you go," Mack explained, knowing that Rachel was very much worth being with, but hating the idea that someone else could dictate how they lived their lives together.

"It won't come to that. Santana isn't like that," Rachel hoped.

"And if she's changed?" The question had to be asked.

"Then…then I'll have to file for a divorce another way and deal with the fallout."

Mack's jaw clenched and she pulled Rachel to her, kissing her cheek before nuzzling into her neck. She wasn't going to let their relationship be controlled by someone who had been out of Rachel's life for so long.

Rachel could have as long as she needed, but if Santana decided that she wanted to do this in the public eye then Mack would step in. She had to. There was no way she could sit idly by and watch this happen. It wouldn't be right, and it would be an injustice to their relationship.

Feeling Rachel's hands in her hair, Mack pulled back and gave her a soft smile, earning one in return.

"It'll work out in the end, I promise you," Rachel murmured, moving closer, her lips lightly grazing Mack's as she spoke.

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, closing the distance, kissing her softly, losing herself in Rachel's touch.

She wasn't the first one to do so, and as Rachel broke the kiss, she wondered if that was a promise she could actually keep. Her history with promises spoke for itself. She promised Santana forever, and yet there she was with Mack, planning their future together instead.

How could it all have changed so much?

How did she end up there instead of being across town with Murdo and Santana?

And why, why were these thoughts plaguing her mind now?

Mack was her future, Santana her past, and although seeing Santana had upset the apple cart, she needed to remember what she was working towards; her life with Mack, free of Santana.

And maybe tomorrow, when she'd had some time, that thought wouldn't hurt so much.

*0*0*


	4. Tarnished Perfection

I know some of you are desperate to know what happened between Santana and Rachel, but that will come in due time, and it's not one big reveal. Cracks appear first, and there have been quite a few hints if you're that keen on working it all out.

*0*0*

One Day, We'll Have It All

*0*0*

The night Santana and Dani got the keys to the bar for the first time, they bought a bottle of gin in celebration and headed straight over. At the time, it was some musky and run down club that needed serious work. The electrics didn't work, the plumbing was a mess, and it was filthy.

That didn't stop them from lining the bar with candles, lighting each one, and then grabbing one of the grubby old stools that had been left and planting themselves in front of the light. The found a single glass in the cupboard by the sink, and with one bottle of tonic as mixer, each drink was on the strong side.

At first they toasted to success, to their future, to what lay ahead, and then they started remodelling the place, talking about what feel they should go for, what colour scheme they wanted, and all the little things that they wouldn't be able to do until the place was gutted. Their taste was on the expensive side, and both Dani and Santana knew what they were talking about probably would never come to fruition, but they'd give it their best shot.

Of course, with the image in mind, the plans all laid out, they now needed to think of the most important thing in relation to the bar. They probably should have thought about it at the beginning, when they weren't three sheets to the wind, but with the gin bottle three quarters empty and the tonic gone, it seemed like a smart idea at the time.

"What are we going to call the place?" Dani asked, excitement in her voice and smile, looking giddily at her, and if Santana didn't have a ring on her finger she'd possibly pursue that. But as she did, she gave a softer smile and thought about what Dani had asked her.

It took longer than she'd like, but with the alcohol in her system and her libido wanting to react to the gorgeous girl next to her, Santana had to really focus.

"Broken Records," she murmured, nodding to herself, reaching for the glass as she did so.

"Broken Records?" Dani repeated, mulling over the thought in her head. "Is that your way of saying we could never make it in the music industry?" she teased, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. That was clearly still a sore spot for Dani.

"That's my way of summing up who we are; you're the one who could easily sell records, and I'm-" S

"Broken," Dani finished, looking at her differently now. Either that or it was the alcohol. It could have been both.

"Neat, huh?" Santana deadpanned, her fingers stroking the glass slowly. She took an agonising deep breath when she felt Dani's hand on her back, and it took all her willpower not to lean into her, not to let herself get carried away. She couldn't. She couldn't do that to Dani or to herself.

"The name is neat, yeah," Dani finally added, smiling . "And I like it, but you, you're not broken." It was said with such sincerity that Santana wanted to believe her. But Dani really had no idea, even if it was sweet of her to say as much.

Instead of mulling over what Santana was feeling right then, hating how even her happiest moments could be infected by thoughts of Rachel, she ditched the glass on the bar, grabbed Dani's hand, and dragged her over to the stage that was rotting in the corner. Dani was smart enough not to stand on it, but still gave a fantastic rendition of Movin' On Up by Primal Scream.

In the following days, after the hangovers and the clean-up of the bar, they somehow found themselves staying strong on the name, and it never changed. It became their baby, and maybe, somewhere along the way it began to heal some of Santana's wounds left behind from that painful day when Rachel walked away. There were scars left behind, but they were clean, no infections, no poison left behind to haunt her.

Only, Santana knew, that if Rachel were to ever walk into her world, if she was ever to step into her bar, her dream, her baby, then every healed wound would become inflamed, every memory, the good, the bad, the ugly, would flash in Santana's mind, and her new world to come crashing down onto her old.

For Santana's sanity and well-being, she needed them to stay separate. She needed to keep her wounds healed and clean, and given the state of her relationship, or lack of, with Rachel, by the time the bar opened, she was every bit as confident that she had nothing to worry about.

*0*0*

Rachel gave it two weeks. Two weeks of waiting and wondering and hoping that Santana would come around to the idea of the separation agreement. Only nothing arrived in the mail, her lawyer didn't contact her, and Quinn's phone call was not inspiring.

As each day crawled on by, Mack looked slightly more disheartened. It wasn't obvious to the everyday eye, but Rachel knew what signs to look for. Mack had been patient. She had been so understanding with Rachel, going along with plans and ideas, and willing to hold off on their engagement, hold off on their future. And she was so great about it, no pressure, no mentioning of Santana or the separation agreement, and Rachel knew that deep down it was probably hurting her.

So there was no way she could just keep waiting.

Six years of being apart. Six years of no contact. Six years of moving on, and now she was being pulled backwards. That was not meant to happen, not when all the major parts of her life were coming together.

It meant she had to take action, even when she didn't want to, and that's how she found herself across town, staring at the one place she really didn't want to be.

Rachel had known about Broken Records, had been keeping tabs on it, really, since it opened. But never once did she think she'd have to walk into what she knew was Santana's sanctuary. It would be like touching a Monet or Picasso with filthy hands, marking and tainting it.

She didn't want to go in, she didn't want to do this, but it was beginning to feel like she had no choice in the matter. Patience wasn't one of her strong suits and Santana should have known that something like this would happen.

And with that though, Rachel bolstered all her confidence and pushed the door to see if it was open. It was, and she walked in, although it looked as though they were not open for business. Had she been coming for any other reason, Rachel really would suggest they keep that locked, but she doubted that would go down well with what was going to be said.

Her heels on the wooden floor and the sound of the door closing alerted someone in the back, and Rachel heard footsteps approaching. She could already envision Santana's pissed off look at seeing her, and she prepared for it, only that was not the face she saw before her.

"We're closed," Dani called, making her way out of the back and stopping short in the doorway. "What…what are _you_ doing here?" There was no malice in her voice, which was welcoming, and it edged on the side of fear and curiosity.

"I came to see Santana. Is she here?" Dani's silence told Rachel everything, and she nodded in understanding. "I appreciate you wanting to protect her, but trust me, she's perfectly capable of looking after herself, especially when it comes to me."

Dani's face said otherwise, but Rachel wasn't going to press any further. She was either going to see Santana or not. If it wasn't today, she'd come back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that if need be.

"Wait here, I'll go get her," Dani finally said, having finished weighing up the options. She turned on her heel and quickly marched into the back, leaving Rachel alone to admire the bar.

It really was a good looking place, classy but not overly so, and Rachel could easily see herself drinking in a place like this. Except, she couldn't, because that would cause all sorts of drama, and it would definitely not make things easier for anyone. So she could admire, and she could take in all that Santana had built without her, but she could never be a part of it. She knew that, she knew that when she left.

"I thought Dani was kidding," Santana's voice rang out, startling Rachel as she turned around.

Looking at Santana had to be one of the more painful parts about all of this. Her heart remembered the girl she fell in love with, but her mind remembered all that had happened to tear that apart. And Santana had it written all over in, like a living memory of betrayal and rejection.

"What are you doing here?" Santana asked, no fondness, no kindness left in her voice. It was purely business.

"I thought I would have heard from you by now, so I came to see what the hold up was," Rachel explained, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot. Though, it seemed she'd most likely already done that when she walked through the door.

"Hold up? Hold up with what?"

"The separation agreement," she replied, not missing a beat. If Santana wanted to play dumb then she could, but Rachel would beat her at this game. She wasn't the silly young ingénue Santana used to know, blind to the inner workings of getting what she wanted her way, and Santana was definitely going to learn if she wasn't careful.

"I told you, I'm not signing one. If you want a divorce, you'll do it publically."

"You'd damage my career."

"Poor you," she deadpanned, and Rachel closed her eyes, pulling all the strength she had to get through the next part.

"If you want to do that then we can." Santana looked surprised but dubious, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. But then there was the catch. "If you really want a public divorce, then we'll do that, but know this, Santana, I will go after everything." Rachel waved her hand as she finished, and Santana's eyes narrowed further.

"What are you talking about?" her voice was low, like a growl before the attack.

"In those early years, I put my career on hold for you, I lost out. I should be compensated." It was like acid in her mouth, but she had played so many roles by now it wouldn't hurt to play the vengeful ex.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana cried out, looking like she had been punched in the gut, leaning on the bar for support.

"No," Rachel responded, as if it was a serious question. "And if you choose to pursue this any other way than via separation agreement then I must go for what I might have lost."

"You're a fucking Broadway star! What does it matter?!" Rachel had triumphed, she had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams, so these outlandish claims were not only ridiculous but exceedingly painful to the memories Santana had once held dear.

"I could have achieved my dream sooner." Santana looked at her like she was scum, and Rachel felt like it as she continued. "I would hate to do this, but to compensate for such actions, I would want a stake in Broken Records."

"Fuck off." It was harsh, harsher than all the others, and Santana looked ready to kill. That was the attack Rachel was waiting on, and while she knew Santana would never physically hurt her, she put some distance between them anyway.

"I was being generous by only wanting a stake," Rachel added, and Santana's palm slapped the bar top, practically spitting blood at her as she spoke.

"I shouldn't be fucking surprised. Rachel Berry, always out for herself! Fucking anyone else over, as long as she's getting what she want! Well no, no! You can back the fuck up. You're not coming into my life and ruining everything I've worked hard for."

"Then sign the separation agreement! Sign it and I'll be gone, you can keep your precious bar and everything else!" she yelled back, hating that she had sunk to losing her cool.

Santana looked at her with so much hatred and pain that Rachel looked away, glancing down at her outfit, wiping it down with her hands, before clearing her throat. The silence was almost chilling for them, pulling each one in on themselves, and it was only the sound of Dani coming into the bar again that had them reacting.

She shot Santana a curious look, which received a nod in return, and then Rachel was faced with the full force of Dani's glare. The message was clear 'get the fuck out before I fuck you up' and she knew when to make her exit.

"Contact me about the separation agreement, otherwise I'll move forward with this," Rachel finished, taking one deep breath on her way to the door.

She hated to do it, she hated all that had to be done, but she couldn't have Santana being the anchor that pulled her down, pulled her back into her past to deal with everything she never wanted to.

And given that last conversation, Rachel finally felt that perhaps she might have just rid herself of that anchor, and could finally focus on her future ahead.

*0*0*


	5. Purge

*0*0*

One Day, We'll Have It All

*0*0*

"Do you think I look fat?" Rachel asked one night, out of the blue while Santana crammed over textbooks.

She was standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, pinching at her hips, and Santana dropped what she was doing to slide out of bed and over to her. Wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist, pushing her hands away, she kissed Rachel's neck and murmured into her ear.

"You're stunning. Nothing about you is fat." Rachel shot her a smile in the mirror, but it was only half-hearted, and that wasn't good enough. "What's going on?"

"The casting director the other day, aside from telling me that I have a face fit for radio, mentioned that I could do to lose a few pounds before even attempting to waste anyone else's time."

"Shit," Santana groaned, frowning. Her arms instinctively pulled Rachel closer. "You know he was talking crap, right? You're gorgeous."

"You're biased," Rachel teased, but the lightness wasn't back in her eyes.

"Yeah, I am, but have you seen you? You're fucking hot, so I have a right to be biased," Santana cursed, waving at the mirror in front of them. "You honestly don't need to lose any weight what so ever, but if it would make you feel better, we can go to the gym some night this week."

It's not that she wanted Rachel to lose weight, but she could see the doubts in her eyes, and that was enough for Santana to try and help. She either offered her assistance outright, or was going to have to pretend Rachel wasn't dieting or losing weight in the near future.

This seemed like the best solution, and it was met with a softer smile on Rachel's lips, which were then on Santana's, sealing that agreement.

It was enough, for now, as Rachel didn't try to lose weight drastically or diet. They still went to the gym one more night a week, as it made her feel better about herself. But there was no drive to turn herself into a stick, which Santana was relieved about.

Of course, this was only one of the many speed bumps in the long and tempestuous career path of Rachel's. Each new rejection brought its own round of issues, and when Santana suggested that they just focus on getting some savings, setting up their lives for the future, it was met with an angry storm out, and three weeks of arguments.

Rachel wasn't getting anywhere, though. She was meeting the same casting directors each time round, being rejected again and again, and Santana was tired of working every hour of every day, cramming extra studies in the evenings, and trying to survive in one of the most expensive cities, especially when her wife was gallivanting around New York, enjoying all it had to offer and occasionally going to an audition.

It was stressful and there was so much strain.

"Fine," Rachel declared, arms crossed, looking on the verge of crying. Whether those tears were from anger or sadness, Santana couldn't work out, nor did she care.

"Fine?" she repeated, needing to know what this was about. The two of them had hardly spoken the last few days, and so much had been said, Rachel could have been referring to anything.

"Fine, I'll take a break from the auditions and start working again. It's unfair of me to expect you to be the sole breadwinner, as it were, and I appreciate all that you've done for us so far." Santana's face softened, knowing how hard this was for Rachel, but it felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmured, giving her wife a soft smile, beckoning her over to the bed.

Rachel moved slowly, her pose changing as she went until she was standing next to Santana at the top of the bed, looking completely exhausted.

Now the tears were from sadness.

"I thought…I thought I'd have made it by now… I thought I was better…maybe I'm not…" The dam broke and Rachel crumbled.

"You are better, and you will make it," Santana said quickly, cupping Rachel's tearstained face within her hands. "You're going to make it. Right now, it's just not your time, but it will happen for you."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're Rachel Berry, you're a star." The words weren't enough, Rachel wasn't buying it, and Santana was too tired to keep trying to convince her.

It was either going to happen or it wasn't, and Santana's words were now stale, having lost their effect months ago. So while Rachel crawled into the bed next to her, breaking her heart at having failed so miserably, Santana could do nothing to help.

Time had run out on Rachel, for now. She'd go back to auditions, maybe, but until then, she needed to get a proper job, bring in some money, and take the weight off Santana. And with this, came resentment.

*0*0*

The ultimatum Rachel had left Santana with tasted bitter in her mouth, and she felt her stomach churn with each passing second. Dani was on hand to lead her to the bathroom, pulling her hair back as she retched and emptied the contents of her stomach.

"Shit," Santana cursed, shaking her head and grabbing a tissue for her mouth.

"You going to be okay?" Dani's concerned voice broke through all the jumbled thoughts going round her mind at that moment, and she nodded slowly.

"Just give me a sec?" Dani was kind enough to depart, allowing Santana time to pull herself back together again.

Fucking fuck. She really didn't think that conversation would have gone so horribly when Dani mentioned Rachel was there. Santana had expected Rachel to rant and beg that Santana sign some form of a separation agreement, but never in a million years did she think that it would turn to threats.

And that's what they were. Rachel was threatening her, threatening her livelihood, her business, her happiness, all because she didn't want the world to know that when she was young and foolish she married someone she thought she was in love with.

It was fucking ridiculous, and oh so painful. Seeing the efforts and the lengths Rachel was going to in an attempt to hide her marriage with Santana was more painful than the day Santana found out it was all over. At least then she was under the pretence that it was her career that was pulling things apart. But now, it was clear Rachel just didn't want to be associated with Santana at all.

And that hurt like no other.

Stumbling her way back through, Santana saw Dani sitting in front of the bar. Dani gave her a look she couldn't decipher, or one she didn't wish to, before calling her over.

"Come here," Dani murmured, reaching out and grabbing a napkin as she did so. Gently, she wiped the tears from Santana's cheeks, the ones she didn't even know were there, and then gave her a soft push to continue what she was doing.

Smiling at her in thanks, Santana moved behind the bar and grabbed two shot glasses. There were no protests so she went for the booze next. After two shots each, Santana felt a little more ready to talk, and Dani looked eager enough to listen. Except Santana felt like her mouth was glued shut, so Dani had to get the ball rolling.

"Do you think she's bluffing?"

In the past, Santana wouldn't have hesitated and immediately said yes. But she no longer knew this Rachel. She didn't know what she was capable of, and while she had witnessed some of her more selfish sides, this was on a whole other level.

"No. I think she's serious," Santana mumbled, shaking her head at the depravity of it all.

Dani looked concerned, and no wonder. Her dream was on the line, too. This was her business, her lifeline, and Rachel was going to try and muscle her way in, destroy it from the ground up, if she didn't get her way.

And in order to get her way, Santana needed to do what she wanted.

"I need to call Quinn," she muttered, sighing loudly.

There was no other option.

Broken Records was too precious, too important to lose. And Dani, Dani was too important to hurt by having Rachel stomp all over her dream. The best thing to do was just to go along with what Rachel wanted, even if every bone in Santana's body was screaming at her to call up the first tabloid reporter she could find in google and tell them all.

There would be too many risks, too much fallout, so instead she was going to have to keep her mouth shut. She'd done that before, she thought, bitterly. So with a heavy sigh, she grabbed her phone and left Quinn a message. She'd get it after work, and be over in no time at all.

Quinn was nice and predictable like that; swooping in after Rachel to clean up her messes, especially when it came to Santana; so this would be no different.

And it wasn't. Quinn arrived, earlier than Santana expected, while Dani was covering the bar and the kitchen, allowing Santana to stew in the back office.

When Quinn wandered in, looking a little apprehensive being back there, Santana pointed to the seat opposite the desk, and made no motion to say anything. Quinn knew better than to prod, so immediately got on with it.

"Have you made a decision?" she asked, trying not to sound hopeful. It was hard, as she too wished for this mess to be over with.

"I'll sign," Santana began, a bitter taste taking over her mouth. "I'll sign whatever damn papers she wants me to, as long as she promises to leave Dani, Broken Records, and me alone, for good."

"I'm sure that can be written into the agreement, and I don't believe it'll be a problem." Quinn knew it wouldn't, but didn't want to say so for sure in case anything changed.

The silenced dragged on as Santana looked on in thought, and Quinn could see her mask beginning to break, pieces cracking off and revealing the anguish beneath. And then it tumbled out, for her to hear.

"Was I ever anything other than her dirty little secret?" Santana wondered, her gaze now firmly on Quinn. It was one question that had never been answered, but it was begging to be. It haunted her on nights she couldn't forget, it crept up on her on days she would catch a glimpse of a memory long forgotten. And she wanted to know for sure. Was she ever something more?

Except Quinn couldn't provide that answer; and as she swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing it wasn't her place to answer, nor feed the fire that was already burning in Santana's eyes; she moved the subject on.

"I'll let her know you've agreed to sign." Santana knew she'd have to wait longer to ever find out that answer for herself.

And then she was back in the mind frame of earlier, when Rachel was in the bar making demands and threats, and the malice was back, and the venom was there, and Quinn could see the change, see her mask going back into place.

"You do that, and tell her that if she ever threatens me again, I'll destroy her." There was so much venom in her voice, it was a shame that she couldn't back it up.

"No, you won't, but she needn't know that," Quinn answered, and it was Santana's turn to swallow the lump in her own throat.

Her animosity and anger might be boiling at the edge of the pot, ready to spill over, but Quinn was right, and she hated herself for that. She could never hurt Rachel like that, she could never destroy everything she had worked so hard for, even when it meant stepping on people and stabbing others in the back.

She was resigned to the loss, the pain of loving Rachel, but she should have known being with her would have had its consequences. There were warning signs throughout their whole relationship that she would be the one losing out if anything went wrong, and she had been blind to see them. Now she was paying that price.

"Try to look at this as a positive," Quinn began, rising from the chair. "Once you sign these, she'll be out of your life forever."

"No, she won't," Santana replied, and it was only with Quinn's pitiful look that she needed to put up her armour some more. "I'll have to sign another set of papers in a year, right? And then she'll be gone for good?"

Quinn took a second to answer, and it was clear she could see straight through Santana's cover up, but she nodded anyway, and then took her leave. If Santana wished to pretend that Rachel wasn't going to be the one that haunted her, then Quinn would let her.

Santana, meanwhile, watched Quinn take her leave with a breath of relief. No one needed to know how deep her emotions ran when it came to Rachel. No one needed to know that she was her one weakness. No one needed to know that this entire situation felt like she was being cut into little pieces every conversation, every reminder, every memory, of who she used to love, who used to love her, and why all that changed.

She felt defeated, and yet she knew this was only the beginning of the long road ahead.

*0*0*


End file.
